


Deuce

by afterhoursfiction



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Canon Non-Binary Character, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Friends to Enemies, Mecha, Military, Multi, PTSD, Traumatic Injury, Unconcluded, War violence, just like...a hot mess, space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23472010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterhoursfiction/pseuds/afterhoursfiction
Summary: A story told in 2 parts: Officer Nathaniel Blair is assigned to pilot the combat mech Deimos, after its former pilot, Lieutenant Halden Crowe, is severely injured. The two train together, forming an easy bond in the midst of a growing battlefield.Then Nathaniel leaves for their first mission. They encounter Lisa Yu, an enemy pilot. Through a series of turbulent circumstances, Nathaniel learns of an unexpected truth.[IMPORTANT NOTE: This story does not have a proper conclusion! Please read author's note for more info]
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> An original story? Here on this site?? Yea I thought I'd just cross-post this here because I like the format of ao3...  
> This story is actually a spinoff of an original story of mine, Sixth Sense (still a work-in-progress). I started it to explore different dynamics between my characters, then it grew into a story of its own. Deuce is inspired by the mecha and space sci-fi genre, taking lots of inspiration from the Gundam series. As this was a quick thing, there's not much worldbuilding so there are many plotholes! You can ask me about them but chances are, I only know the answer to 1/10 questions. The protagonist, Nathaniel Blair, is non-binary and referred to as they/them throughout the story.
> 
>  **Important note: This story does not have a proper conclusion. It also ends on a cliffhanger.** I'm mean, sorry. I wrote it for fun, and only wanted to write about Nathaniel's interactions with the two other main characters. Feel free to think up your own conclusion...or beat me up forever for it.
> 
> _Warning: This story contains war violence, discussions of traumatic injury and multiple threats of violence and murder_
> 
> It also contains art by me! If the images just Don't Work on mobile....I'm sorry you have to view it on desktop. I've spent too long trying to fix it.

“Officer Nathaniel Blair, Lieutenant Halden Crowe.” The captain introduces, gesturing across the hospital ward.

Nathaniel’s transfer to the Earth Federation’s lunar station had been sudden, but they’ve spent the last week familiarising themself with the station and its operations. Today was to be the last of their orientation — meeting the lieutenant they would be training with.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Nathaniel salutes.

The lieutenant in question is sitting in a bed across the room, his arm in a bulky cast and bandages plastered over the rest of his body. Nathaniel had been briefed on his situation, but they hadn’t really known what to expect.

“Hi, officer.” Hal offers with a small, easy smile.

Nathaniel isn’t sure what to make of this. They lower their salute slowly.

“How...are you, sir?”

“Oh I’m fine, y’know—” Hal shrugs (or what Nathaniel surmises to be his attempt at one), before turning his face slowly to the cast. “Except this.”

Nathaniel winces.

“I’m sorry, sir—”

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do this to me.” Hal sighs, turning to look at the window. Outside the lunar space station, the sky was black space. Nathaniel wonders if he was thinking about his battle with the Cerion. The report doesn’t state much of the details, so all they know is that the cockpit of his machine was nearly breached and his arm was injured when he was recovered.

“Can they give me more morphine? I’m so... _ugh.”_

“For the last time, the medical officer has advised against it.” The captain answers firmly.

“So I _suffer.”_ Hal’s face screws up. Then he turns to Nathaniel. “Nathaniel, right?”

“Um—” Nathaniel blinks, a little horrified because the captain is right _there._ What happened to formalities? “Yes?”

“You’ll be under my command, right?” Hal presses.

“I think so?” Nathaniel answers weakly. At this point, they’re not even sure of anything anymore.

“Okay, so if I ask you to head to the kitchen and sneak me some—”

“Lieutenant,” the captain interjects. “I think you need some rest.”

“I’ve been lying here _all day,”_ Hal growls. “And the day before that. And the day—”

“We will be seeing you again, when you are better.” The captain cuts him off, thankfully. Hal doesn’t even seem to notice what he’s saying. “Excuse us.”

Nathaniel gives him a quick bow before ducking out of the room.

* * *

“So, did we get off on the wrong foot?”

It’s been two weeks since their first meeting, and Hal seemed to have recovered enough to be allowed out of bed. His arm is still in a cast, but he doesn’t seem to have any problem keeping up with Nathaniel along the station walkways. 

“I won’t say that, exactly…” Nathaniel answers carefully.

“Oh, good. ‘Cause it was pretty much a blur to me. The painkillers, y’know?”

“Yes, sir...I know.”

Unknowingly, they had arrived in the hangar bay. The weightlessness hits first; it was one of the few sections of the space station without artificial gravity. Nathaniel glances up, following Hal’s gaze.

“They fixed him already, huh?”

 _Deimos —_ a second-generation combat mecha. Nathaniel had trained with smaller units, but this one towered over them at nearly 20 metres tall. This was the real thing. This was what Hal fought with on the frontlines; what he used to push the Cerion back.

And now, Deimos would be Nathaniel’s.

Nathaniel turns back to Hal, suddenly noting the way his brow furrowed and his eyes shook with something like —

“Amazing, isn’t he?” Then, it was gone. Replaced with a smile.

“Y-yea…”

“Good. You’ll be spending a lot of time with him in the next few weeks.”

Hal knows Deimos like the back of his hand. He didn’t run through the controls like a manual or handbook. No, Hal talked about each part of Deimos like he was a home. There was a connection, Nathaniel felt, between him and Deimos.

But there was something _else,_ too. Something Nathaniel couldn’t put a finger on.

“Most systems are automated, so you don’t really have to worry about them. If you land on a planet with any gravity, just switch the environment control and enable the ground system. The propulsion will adjust and all that.” Hal explains, pointing out the systems in the cockpit. “This is the nav system. There’s a ton of stuff here like maps from mission command and then those star maps with your position in the stellar system, etcetera etcetera. ”

Nathaniel nods, taking it in. They’re familiar with all the terms, but the training mechs they’ve used have never been equipped this extensively. It all makes sense, of course. Deimos won’t just be making rounds in a training facility or a monitored airspace. He will be heading into space, into combat, where he will be Nathaniel’s weapon and ship.

“Did you get all of that?” Hal raises an eyebrow. “It’s a lot, I know. I took forever to get everything down, pat. I even stuck sticky notes inside the cockpit while I was training.”

“Well, you’re a walking manual now.” Nathaniel remarks.

“Yea,” Hal huffs. “Spending 200 hours in this thing kinda does that to you.”

He leans forward, peering at the brief in Nathaniel’s hands. Unopened, because Hal had forgotten someone wrote actual notes for their session in black and white.

“Anyway, need any sticky notes? Or actually, just ask me if you forget anything. The engineering team told me my ‘possessions were disruptive to maintenance’ or something,” He continues, affronted. “Like, what are they gonna do if I forget how to do a manual reboot— oh. Oh no, I forgot one of the most important things.”

Nathaniel winces, but hopes it isn’t too obvious.

“So...yea, if your systems fail, you can do a manual reboot with the central PC.” Hal pokes at the display, showing how the engines and propulsion system can be manually rebooted. “It’s not ideal, ‘cause it triggers a crash and basically takes you offline for a while. But...y’know, when stuff is broken anyway, you do whatever.”

Nathaniel nods. This isn’t really written anywhere. The official statement is that they will be supported by command and other support units; that there’s always a plan for rescue and recovery. But space is huge, and battlefields are unpredictable. The lieutenant is just teaching them to survive.

“By the way, if you’re hurt,” Hal opens a hatch beside the seat. “Compression bandages for external wounds, shots of painkillers and adrenaline are all here. Yea, pretty gruesome. I know. It helps you hold out a little.”

Suddenly, Nathaniel wonders how _he_ held out. What did he do when his armour was being torn through and critical systems were failing left and right? How do you wait for rescue if you’re— 

No. Not the thing to ask your lieutenant.

“So, ignoring the dark turn that whole thing took...all the stuff here should be more or less similar to the training mechs!” Hal concludes. “Just tweaked a little here and there.”

“Tweaked?”

“I...make some modifications on my own,” Hal explains slowly. “Loosen up some controls and systems so they’re more responsive to me. Piloting a mech isn’t just about making it move forward or shooting a rifle. You gotta be in sync with it. You gotta _know_ it.”

“You seem to know him quite well,” Nathaniel responds with a small smile.

“Yea, we’ve been through a lot.” Hal says softly. “Ready to try a simulation, officer?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Nathaniel climbs into the seat as Hal starts up the simulation. The standby lights in the cockpit go out, plunging everything into darkness for a moment. Then the displays come on, illuminating a mock-up space.

“Starting first training simulation with Officer Nathaniel Blair,” Hal announces into the comms. “Space maneuver. Weapon controls locked.”

“Officer, you are clear to begin.” A voice replies over the system.

Nathaniel takes hold of the stick controls, getting used to the grip. Slowly, they try the pedals, firing up the propulsion system. They try following the directions on the simulation, but controlling Deimos is...hard. It’s weird, because the specs are better and the machine is more responsive than what Nathaniel had trained with, but it was like

Deimos had a soul.

The thought comes to them suddenly, appearing without warning or reason. Nathaniel couldn’t understand it.

“The first day’s always rocky, so don’t worry about it,” Hal says good-naturedly.

“Yea— I mean, yes,” Nathaniel corrects quickly, catching themself. The hours in the cockpit had made them sluggish. “Thank you for assisting me today, lieutenant.”

Hal frowns, pursing his lips.

“Right, and now your rather handsome lieutenant—” Hal pauses to glance at his bare wrist. “Is scheduled for eight hours of bedrest.”

Nathaniel swallows the choking noise in their throat.

“Um, yes. Goodnight...sir.”

Hal smiles, satisfied.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, my officer.”

* * *

Over the week, Nathaniel began to grow more familiar with Deimos. They even start to feel a strange connection, struck over the quiet machinery.

“Looks like your performance has been good,” Hal remarks as Nathaniel climbs into the cockpit again. “We can start on weapons today, excited?”

Nathaniel had gone through Deimos’ equipment blueprints, but Hal explains each one over again.

First, Deimos is equipped with an assault rifle. The rounds deal moderate damage to the enemy’s armour, and are best for mid-range combat in space. There are also various secondary equipment like a pair of short knives, ideal for emergency self-defense in close combat. However, Deimos’ main weapon is a lance. Designed to penetrate enemy armour in close combat, it is what usually supplies the finishing move.

“Got all of that?” Hal asks, looking at his officer.

“Yes, sir.” Nathaniel answers.

“Good.” Hal shoots them a quick smile. “You’ll need to master the lance. It’s Deimos’...well, _killing_ weapon.”

Weapons training is hard. The lance tips Deimos’ balance and Nathaniel has to learn a new rhythm. The fluidity in their earlier movements are lost, becoming slow and chunky again.

_Hit, and don’t be hit. Or, try not to be._

Alternatively, drop your lance.

“Officer.” Hal raises his eyebrows. “Dropping your own weapon really doesn’t raise your chances of winning, _or_ intimidate the enemy if that was what you were going for.”

“Lieutenant, this is only my second day.” Nathaniel gives him a withering look.

“Fine, I’m just teasing you.” Hal rolls his eyes. “Besides, it’s fun to watch someone struggle with something you already learnt.”

“Do you have some complex the captain should know about?” Nathaniel narrows their eyes.

“Hey! No complaints to the captain!” Hal grits his teeth. “Back to training!”

Hal continues to guide them with little pointers, but mostly it’s up to Nathaniel. Or rather, Nathaniel _and_ Deimos. It’s weird, thinking of the machine as a partner. But there’s no other way to wrap their head around it. Nathaniel could push and bend the controls to their will but if they listened— they’d hear the strain in the machinery, the shift in the engine, the voice saying _pause_ and the voice saying _now, go._

Hal knew Deimos like this too, they’re sure. They don’t talk about it much, but Nathaniel can read the look in his eyes. A quiet understanding, between the lines of strict manuals and reports.

* * *

“Looks like my cute officer has been doing pretty well.”

Nathaniel blinks, tearing their tired eyes from the screen. Unknowingly, the day had passed while they ran through their training regime with Deimos. The cockpit hatch opens and Hal guides himself in, holding a report of Nathaniel’s simulation performances for the week.

“Are you always so exceedingly casual?” Nathaniel quips.

They didn’t really mind, though it had thrown them off at first. Now, they’ve mostly gotten used to it and it was just another thing to tag to their strange lieutenant.

“I’m off-duty. No one cares. Baby-sitting _you—”_ Hal points at them. “Is just an extracurricular activity so I don’t go stir-crazy.”

“And you’re sure it’s working out for you?” Nathaniel retorts, rolling their eyes.

There’s a beat, then Hal laughs.

“God, you’re so much more fun when you’ve wound down!”

“Yea, I’m pretty tired.” Nathaniel says, a small smile breaking on their face. “So, how was your day?”

“Horrible,” Hal groans. “I had a checkup today and my doctor was _so_ mean.”

“Why do you say that?” Nathaniel quips, amused.

“She was doing a test to check if my nerves are healing correctly and rigged me up to a machine,” Hal reccounts, huffing. “Then she _accidentally_ sets the voltage wrong and sends me a goddamned shock! Who the hell does that to a patient?”

“Maybe it really was an accident?”

“I doubt so. She makes me take so many tests.” Hal narrows his eyes. “Every time she says I’m her ‘favourite patient’ I get more suspicious.”

“Well, she does help you in the end, doesn’t she?” Nathaniel says with a shrug.

“Yea. I heard she does bio-engineering or something, and that’s the only way they’re able to fix up my arm.”

Hal sighs, waving his hand.

“Anyway, enough about that. Tell me how your day was, since I missed it entirely.”

“It was the same old, sir.” Nathaniel responds.

Hal leans over the seat, peering at them.

“You can call me Hal, y’know. When we’re off-duty and all.”

Nathaniel stills. He looked so...earnest that they weren’t sure how to respond.

“Now are you...really trying to flirt with me?”

At their response, a flush blooms over Hal’s face and his eyes go wide. It’s pretty gratifying to watch, actually.

“N-no!” Hal barks, mortified. “I meant we can be friends!”

Nathaniel bursts into laughter, bending over and chuckling uncontrollably.

“Hey! Officer, stop that!” Hal cries.

“No—” Nathaniel gasps. “Off-duty rights!”

_“Nathaniel!”_

Thankfully, there was no one around to hear the ruckus in the cockpit. Belatedly, Nathaniel thought they hadn’t had many chances to be this candid since joining the force. Hal probably thought the same way.

* * *

In the next few weeks, there are several mission briefings for an upcoming mission. Two weeks from now, they will strike one of the Cerion’s strongholds, a strategic position that has been posing a threat to the lunar station for years. Nathaniel will be piloting Deimos in the support team.

“Please review your positions and memorize the mission plan. Officer Blair, I believe you are familiar with your new assignment?”

“Yes sir,” Nathaniel responds. “As of now, I have completed 140 hours of training with the combat unit Deimos.”

“Good. You will be on the support team this time around, but Deimos is among the more highly equipped units, so you may be expected to engage the enemy directly.”

“Understood.”

The briefing concludes and Nathaniel returns to the hangar. As they make their way through the common hallways, they catch sight of a familiar figure.

“What do you mean my reassignment request was denied?” An exasperated voice cries out.

“You will be resuming normal duties once your doctor has cleared you.” A firm voice explains. “You have a duty to fulfil, lieutenant.”

As Nathaniel hangs out of sight, they recognise the two as the lieutenant and captain.

“My circumstances have changed, sir.” The lieutenant bites out. “I don’t believe I am fit to—”

“Whether you are fit to carry out your duty,” the captain interjects. “Will be up to command.”

The captain takes off, ending the conversation. Nathaniel watches Hal collect himself, clutching at his arm sling. In the past few weeks, it had grown significantly less bulky. They guess it was probably due to be removed soon.

Then Hal stalks down the hallway in Nathaniel’s direction.

“Lieutenant!” Nathaniel calls out. Hal whips around.

“Are you...alright?”

“...No,” he lets out a sigh. “But don’t worry about me okay, officer?”

In the evening, the hangar settles into silence. The maintenance team had finished their rounds and other training sessions had concluded. Nathaniel sits in Deimos’ cockpit, numbly running through the last of their performance reports. They’ve more or less gotten the hang of the mech, and were mostly running simulations to beat it into muscle memory. They haven’t needed much supervision either, so the lieutenant leaves them alone for the better part of the day. Nathaniel wonders what he does, now that he’s freed up from ‘babysitting’.

A knock sounds from outside the hatch. Nathaniel startles for a moment, before collecting themself and hitting the release mechanism.

“Missed me?” Hal quips, leaning over the hatch door.

Nathaniel relaxes with an easy smile.

“Not that much.”

“Hmm, you’ve been working hard, huh?” He continues, glancing at the display as he floats down from the hatch. “I heard your performance’s up to par now. They’re sending you out on the next mission, right?”

“Yea,” Nathaniel nods. “I’m just in a support position, though.”

“Come on.” Hal holds out a hand to them. “You’ve worked enough today.”

Nathaniel huffs, letting out a tired smile before taking hold of it. Hal tugs Nathaniel out of the cockpit, giving them the momentum to hop back onto the hangar deck. The two settle on the platform, backs resting against the safety railings. Deimos towers before them, silent.

It’s not uncomfortable, not really. Quiet moments like this let Nathaniel finally ease their mind into a numbing emptiness, away from complicated machineries, systems and mission briefings. There was just so much, all the time. But something rises up in the midst of this lull.

“Hal?” Nathaniel calls out tentatively, turning to their side.

“Yea?” Hal hums without looking back.

“That conversation you had with the captain...what was it about?”

“Oh, that. Yea it was nothing.”

“You really don’t want to tell me?” Nathaniel sounds hurt. They didn’t _mean_ to, it just…

“Fuck.” Hal lets out a long, exasperated sigh. “You’re really good at making me give in to you, you know that?”

Nathaniel didn’t. Well, not consciously.

“I told the captain I wanted to quit.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t my original assignment to be here. I started out in surveillance, then got led into combat, somehow.” Hal explains. “They were looking for a pilot for Deimos and I guess I passed their funny little test or something. That happened to you too, right?”

Nathaniel nods slowly. Their reassignment to pilot Deimos has been a surprise. As far as they were concerned, they had never put in a transfer.

“But yea, I asked to be reassigned elsewhere because I just…” Hal pauses, breathing slowly. “I can’t.”

“...What happened?” Nathaniel peers at him.

“I surrendered that day, when my engines gave out. But she still, that pilot still—” Hal frowns. He was shaking. “I had lost my weapon and half of my controls. I was just there, desperately sending out SOS signals as she crushes the cockpit around me. She won’t stop until I’m killed.”

Nathaniel listens, their heart hurting.

“All I could do was try not to die.” Hal finishes, covering his face. “So I can’t. I can’t go out there again because I’m too damned scared to even be in the cockpit again.”

“But the past few weeks you were…”

Hal moves his hand to look at Nathaniel.

“Alone, I mean.”

Nathaniel bites their lip.

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what else to say.”

Hal shifts, twisting to rest his head against Nathaniel’s shoulder.

“Don’t call me ‘sir’,” he says softly. “I don’t want to be that anymore.”

“Sorry. Hal.”

Hal lapses into silence again, and Nathaniel returns their gaze to the combat unit, Deimos. Before today, Nathaniel had thought Deimos and all their biggest mecha units were indestructible. But Nathaniel had never met the cerion. Command must’ve built these machines because their enemy was just as terrifying.

What happens when two fearsome and indestructible forces come together? If there’s no truce, what will the damage look like?

“I shouldn’t have told you.” Hal sits up, pulling away to look at Nathaniel. “You’re being sent out to fight after a fucking coward.”

“Don’t say that about yourself.” Nathaniel frowns.

Hal reaches out to take Nathaniel’s hand, pulling it into his lap.

“Just promise me something.” He closes his fingers around their hand. “When you meet the cerion, don’t show them any mercy. They’d use it to kill you.”

The fingers against their palm were warm, but the steel in his words made them shiver.

"Okay.”

* * *

“Have you checked all the thrusters and fuel yet?”

“Yea! Just run one final check on the propulsion system and we’re set!”

The engineering team scurries back and forth around the hangar, doing last-minute tune-ups and running checks on all systems. Nathaniel does their own round, checking everything corresponds on the system display.

This will be their first official mission against the Cerion. According to the mission plan, they are expected to provide supporting fire and engage any stranglers that get past the main assault team. It’s a simple mission to understand, really. Get them to surrender their stronghold, or cause enough damage that it doesn’t matter.

“Hey.”

Nathaniel looks up from the display. It’s the lieutenant.

“Lieutenant.” Nathaniel smiles. His cast had been removed a few weeks ago, but he was still cradling it instinctively as he entered the hatch. “Is your arm better?”

“I don’t know yet.” Hal shrugs. “I still have 30 days of physical therapy after this.”

“At least you’ll have plenty to do without me,” Nathaniel consoles.

“Ugh, do you even know what a pain it is?” Hal scowls. “I’d rather watch you drop Deimos’ lance again and again.”

“I haven’t done that in weeks, sir. And please don’t jinx me before a mission.” Nathaniel gives him a withering look.

“Okay sorry, sorry. Good luck, okay?”

“That’s better.”

They pause, Hal hanging by the hatch door and Nathaniel in their place in Deimos’ cockpit. The engineering teams are yelling across the hangar to each other, their voices blurring into a murmur. There’s an announcement for all other personnel to clear out in ten minutes.

“Sounds like my cue to go,” Hal says.

“Yea.” Nathaniel nods. 

Hal steps away from the hatch, backing to the hangar deck.

 _No,_ something propels Nathaniel to climb out of the cockpit, letting the momentum guide them out of the hatch. They reach out, taking hold of Hal’s hand.

“Hal,” they call out.

And then pull him close enough to press their lips against the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll see you soon.”

Hal blinks, a flush rising up their neck. Then his lips pull into a smile.

“Yea. See you soon, Nathaniel.”

He gives their hand a quick squeeze and releases them.


	2. Part II

“Deimos standby for take off. Transfer to launch deck A.”

Nathaniel closes their eyes, exhaling slowly through their mouth. There’s a beat of silence after the final alarm goes out, then a heavy clunk follows as the combat unit is lowered into the launch deck.

“Launch deck ready.”

The hatch opens, unfolding into a runway. Nathaniel curls their fingers around the throttle.

“Nathaniel Blair, Deimos. Launching!”

Nathaniel pushes the throttle and Deimos soars forward, sailing across the launch deck into black space.

The Cerion stronghold is a strategic space station located on the seventh moon of Ares. It had supported the battle at earth’s moon several years ago, and continues to pose the threat of an assault on Earth.

Nathaniel gathers with the support team, following their assigned position. A signal to surrender is given — and promptly ignored. The assault team moves in. Rounds are fired, tearing at the base. Then, as the team advances further, the base crumbles.

It was a trap.

The team yells over the line — systems damaged, voices breaking up. Command calls for a change in attack. At that moment the Cerion appear, emerging in their combat mecha units. In a flash, it becomes a battlefield.

“Officer, back me up!” Someone calls over the comms.

“Yes, sir!”

Nathaniel locks in on their comrade’s position. They’re facing off against an enemy unit, struggling with a difference in power. Their team was full of weaker support units. At this rate, they’d be easy-picking for the Cerion. Nathaniel takes aim, firing a few quick shots. While the shots do little damage at their distance, it draws the enemy’s attention enough for them to ease up, letting their comrade slip away.

It’s clearly one of their stronger combat units. Deimos runs a quick scan, looking through their database to identify the unit.

A name comes up —  _ Lachesis. _

“Shit, officer look out!”

Nathaniel realises Lachesis had turned away from their comrade and was heading towards them. They had just enough time to throw Deimos out of the way of a critical hit, letting Lachesis graze their armour instead.

Nathaniel turns around, ready to fire a retaliating shot but she was — gone.

And then they’re hit by a rain of gunfire.

“Ugh! Come on Deimos, where is she?” Nathaniel grunts, trying to reorientate themself in the mess. The systems’ automatic sensors couldn’t keep up with her, and she kept moving out of their line of sight. It was impossible—

No, not for Deimos. Nathaniel tries to calm down. They’re taking fire, but it won’t pierce their armour that quickly. Lachesis is keeping a distance, but if she charges in…

_ Now, there. _

Nathaniel catches the shift in Lachesis; rifle to sword, and knows she’s ready to charge. A line to their shoulder, right under the armour plate. If she hits the joint in Deimos’ frame, she could break off his arm.

When she soars toward them, Nathaniel strikes off her weapon with their lance. They’re a little slow, but it defers her sword and Deimos’ armour plate breaks off instead. Lachesis backs away and this time, Deimos chases.

Nathaniel knows they’re getting further from the battlefield. But they can’t let up; not even tear their eyes away to steal a glance at the navigation system. They haven’t heard from command in a while. Did they leave the comms range?

“Deimos,” Nathaniel breathes, curling their fingers around the stick. “Time to stop dancing around. We need to end this.”

Lachesis whirrs around, spinning back toward Deimos with her sword. Nathaniel ducks down, but she breaks off another piece of their armour. If she can’t strike them, she’ll wear them out. Her tenacity scares Nathaniel.

Nathaniel readies the lance and soars back towards her. With a heavy rip, Lachesis’ arm tears off.

“Yes! Now she’s—”

And a short sword plunges into Deimos. A voice breaks through their comms device, triggered by a proximity connection.

“Do you think you would get me...that easily?”

A shiver tears through Nathaniel’s spine. It was the pilot.

_ “Warning: Damage to engine systems.” _

Nathaniel backs away, cursing. Hurriedly, they check the systems to see what they can salvage. The attack hit their fuel lines, so they’re losing thrust quickly. They have to end this quickly, or propulsion would die and they’d be a sitting duck.

Mercy. Nathaniel showed them mercy. They wanted to immobilize Lachesis instead of damaging her core systems. They thought that if they tore off her arms, she wouldn’t be able to charge, and would surrender.

Hal was right. Now Deimos took the hit for it.

“Sorry, Deimos.” Nathaniel mutters.

Deimos has lost armour on his left side, which Nathaniel had been trying to shield. But now that they had less than ten minutes of fuel left, it was pointless. Lachesis had lost her left arm, but she was still holding her long sword in her right, poised to attack again.

She charges.

Nathaniel doesn’t dodge. They reach out with Deimos’ left arm, grabbing her sword. It slices through their grip, metal screaming against metal — but stops short. As they’ve guessed rather recklessly, Lachesis has less power with one arm left. The force of the blow breaks off Deimos’ hand, but Lachesis loses her sword as well.

It’s the opening they’ve waited for. Deimos says  _ now, go. _

Lachesis breaks away, but Nathaniel throws the rest of their fuel into the thrusters and strikes.

The force throws them into a neighbouring moon. Nathaniel hears the systems screech: fuel at critical levels, engine systems failing, extensive damage to armour— but feels Deimos’ lance breaking through the hull.

The surface breaks under the force of their landing, tearing off rock and dust. The two units crash, mangled.

* * *

_ “Critical systems error. Critical systems error. Critical—” _

“Shut...up…” Nathaniel groans, hitting the switch on the beeper.

For a few moments they stew in the silence, collecting themself. There’s blood in their nose and every bone feels bruised, rattled by the crash. Nathaniel exhales, slowly. They test their fingers, moving and curling each one in succession. No, not broken. Deimos must’ve absorbed most of the impact.

“Now let’s see what happened to you,” Nathaniel says grimly, reaching for the display.

The engine systems are busted. Fuel is completely gone, and thrusters are unusable. There’s extensive damage to the armour and hulling from the crash, but the core seems mostly intact. The left arm was lost and other joints had sustained significant damage. So, Deimos won’t be moving for a while.

Nathaniel switches to their navigation system, checking their position on the stellar map. They seemed to have crashed into one of the uninhabited moons of Ares. Nathaniel runs a quick environment scan, checking for gravity and atmosphere readings. Stable, thankfully.

Finally, Nathaniel checks the comms system. Dead. Nothing. They try pinging out an SOS signal, but the transmitter appears to be damaged. Great, so they’re officially dead in the water.

“...Fuck,” they mutter softly. “What now, Deimos?”

The other pilot.

Nathaniel frowns. They know the lance broke through Lachesis’ hull, but they don’t know how deep it went. They had blacked out at the point of impact, reeling from the crash. They might’ve completely pierced the cockpit and killed the pilot, or merely breached its exterior.

Only one way to know, really.

Nathaniel checks the hatch beside their seat. Nestled among emergency medical supplies was a standard military-issue handgun. Better to be prepared. They take it and release the cockpit hatch.

If they thought Deimos was badly damaged, Lachesis was many times worse. The mecha had taken the brunt of the impact, colliding with the surface of the moon. Most of its armour had broken off, scattered in the crater left by the crash. The frame was mangled, with only the mecha’s torso and head remaining recognizable.

Deimos’ lance had stalled, stuck where it had struck Lachesis’ torso. It doesn’t seem to have pierced through the cockpit hatch — the damaged thrusters must’ve thrown off their aim.

Nathaniel approaches the hatch. They wait, letting a moment pass in silence. Checking if there was movement. If there was a trap; some last-ditch effort to kill them.

Nothing.

Slowly, Nathaniel pries the hatch open. The sight is grisly. There is blood splattered over the displays as various systems error warnings flashed. The pilot is slumped over in her seat, cracks blooming over her helmet. Debris floats listlessly in the space, eerily silent.

“Is she...dead?” Nathaniel mutters softly.

_ She is not. _

Nathaniel reels back. Was it Deimos? It  _ felt  _ like him, but they weren’t even in the cockpit anymore—

The pilot stirs. Nathaniel catches themself, quickly taking aim with their gun. Slowly, the pilot reaches up and removes her helmet.

Nathaniel’s breath hitches. She looked human — they had always known the cerion had a similar appearance — but dark, ashy marks covered the side of her face. It clung like scales, flaking as she lifted her head slowly.

Their eyes meet, and she begins to speak.

“What, never seen a monster?”

Nathaniel doesn’t know what to say. They clutch the gun tighter, aiming at her head. She gets up and they still can’t shoot. There’s blood smeared over her face and her suit is broken in places, but she continues climbing out of the hatch, approaching Nathaniel.

They have to shoot. They have to pull the trigger. Kill her — and then, what? Was this still a battlefield?

Suddenly, faster than they had expected her to be able to, the pilot tackles Nathaniel. In a blink, she’s holding a knife over their throat. The handgun is knocked out of their hands, slipping out of reach.

“You’ve lost your chance,” she says.

Shit, how could they let this happen?

“W-wait!” Nathaniel chokes out. Frantically, their mind fishes for something,  _ anything _ to deter her. “I heard a voice earlier!”

She pauses, her face pulling into a frown.

“Was it Lachesis?” Nathaniel continues, now speaking hurriedly. “Why did I hear it?”

“You could...hear?” The pilot draws back.

“Not hear as much as...feel,” Nathaniel explains. “It’s more intuition than thought. I hear Deimos that way too, when we’re together.”

“What is your name?” She asks suddenly.

“Huh— I’m N-Nathaniel,” Nathaniel stutters, then swallows and repeats it more firmly, “Nathaniel Blair.”

“My name is Lisa Yu,” the pilot responds. “And I think we may be mistaken about something.”

“About what?” Nathaniel frowns. Then, they notice Lisa had still been bleeding all this time, heavy droplets falling to Nathaniel’s suit. There were gashes all over her, no doubt from the shrapnel Deimos’ lance had dislodged. Nathaniel sits up, forcing Lisa to reel back.

“Wait. Lisa, you’re bleeding,” they say without thinking.

Lisa blinks.

“I have medical supplies in my unit,” Nathaniel continues, uncertain. “We’re not...killing each other anymore, right?”

For a brief moment, Nathaniel wishes she would smile or even laugh. But her expression remains impassive as she answers.

“No.”

Nathaniel gets up, turning to return to Deimos. They chance a glance back, watching Lisa return her knife to its sheath by her thigh. She keeps her hand close as she follows them. Well, slight improvement to having it in her hand.

When they reach Deimos, Nathaniel releases the hatch and climbs into the cockpit. They pop the hatch by the seat, retrieving packs of compression bandages. Lisa remains outside, peering in cautiously.

“Hey, I can’t help you if you’re out there.” Nathaniel gives her an exasperated look.

“Why are you helping me, Nathaniel?”

Nathaniel turns back to the bandages, tearing a package open.

_ Because it’s human. _

It’s a lot to say, after what they did.

“I’m stranded here. Deimos’ comms system broke, so I can’t call anyone.” Nathaniel pauses. “If you’re not trying to kill me anymore, I don’t really want to fight either.”

When they turn back, Lisa is beside them.

“And there’s that thing you said, about us being mistaken. I want to hear more about it.” They bite their lip. “But not with you bleeding like that.”

Lisa eyes them carefully, quiet. Nathaniel holds out the bandage, unsure.

“Your um, head first, I guess.”

Lisa pushes her hair away from her face. Blood was streaked over her forehead, where a gash had opened. Nathaniel tries to wipe it clean. When they can finally see her face more clearly, they realise that she was rather pretty. There’s still the ashy scars on her cheek, but Lisa’s features are sharp, her eyes piercing.

“Does it hurt?” Nathaniel asks cautiously. The gash wasn’t as big as it had seemed, but had bled quite a bit.

“No,” Lisa answers, closing her eyes. Nathaniel guesses such questions are frivolous to her.

They patch up the rest of her wounds, stopping the blood and wrapping up the gashes. Lisa barely flinches, staying completely silent through the process.

“Okay, I think I’ve stopped all the blood.” Nathaniel steps back. Lisa opens her eyes, looking up. She reaches out, grabbing hold of the leftover bandages in Nathaniel’s hand.

“Wait, what are you—?” Nathaniel startles, flinching away quickly.

“Your arm.” Lisa says.

Nathaniel blinks, confused.

Lisa reaches for them again, but more slowly. This time, Nathaniel doesn’t pull away. They let her guide their arm toward her, where a piece of their suit had been sliced through. Blood broke from the surface, escaping from the cut.

“Oh.”

Nathaniel hadn’t noticed it. Probably because their whole body had hurt so much after the crash, and then they had adrenaline to thank during their whole encounter with Lisa.

Lisa secures the bandage around their arm, tightening it just enough to hold it together. Nathaniel flinches instinctively.

“Does it hurt?” She asks.

“Yea,” Nathaniel mutters.

“This is much more mild.”

Nathaniel can’t see her face, but was she...mocking them? They stare at her, silently mortified. When Lisa finishes, she looks up again. Nathaniel quickly wipes their look away, composing their face.

“Anyway, what were you talking about earlier?”

Lisa straightens up, levelling her gaze with Nathaniel.

“What do you know about the cerion?”

“Well...the cerion are a technologically advanced race similar to humans. They live on Ares, Earth’s closest and most similar neighbour. But they—” Nathaniel pauses. It was weird to say this to someone who actually  _ is _ cerion. But Lisa looks on silently, urging them to go on.

“They’re trying to attack Earth.”

Nathaniel was ready for Lisa to get upset, maybe even reach for her knife and break this delicate truce they had struck. Instead, she looks amused.

“And you believe that?”

“What?” Nathaniel stares at her.

Lisa touches the console, where Deimos’ main systems are displayed on the screen.

“The cerion have an ability,” she explains. “Our senses are more attuned, so we’re able to read certain electromagnetic signals. Technology isn’t as simple as wiring up a circuit board, or writing code to decide how a program behaves. It changes and evolves. It breathes, just like us.”

“And this...is the voice?”

“Yes.” Finally Lisa smiles, proud.

“But I heard it too.”

“Because the cerion are human. Before our abilities awoke, we had lived on earth.” Lisa continues.

“So I’m…” Nathaniel trails off, afraid.

“Your abilities might have been dormant. But someone discovered them, and put you in that pilot’s seat.” Lisa scoffs. “They stole our technology, but they could never keep up if they just fought by themselves.”

Nathaniel turns away, heart pounding. Lisa’s words sounded like a ludicrous fantasy. But even as their head throbbed to think, the pieces fell into place.

“I— what do I do now?” They mutter quietly.

“You can return to the earth federation, or you can come to Ares. We  _ are _ orbiting around Ares.”

“With what? Lachesis is a wreck and all of Deimos’ flight systems are down.”

Lisa leans over the side console, looking over Deimos’ systems.

“We might be able to fix up Deimos enough to send out a short range message. The nearest lunar station could pick it up.” Lisa says. “Of course, the nearest  _ Cerion _ station.”

“Let me think about this, okay?” Nathaniel bites their lip. “I’m exhausted.”

Though really, they didn’t have options. They have no idea when command would send out a search party, or how long it would take for them to find Deimos if they couldn’t ping out a long-range signal. Their only option, at least for survival, might be to follow Lisa.

And there was all that they just learnt about the cerion too. About themselves, possibly.

When Nathaniel looks up, they notice Lisa was releasing the cockpit hatch.

“Wait, where are you going?” Nathaniel says quickly.

“Don’t you want to be alone?”

“But where would you  _ go?  _ Lachesis is almost completely non-functional. The atmosphere is too thin to breathe for long and temperatures are going to—” They pause, letting out a long sigh instead. “Stay here, Lisa.”

A strange look crosses her face. She looks unsure.

“If you say so.”

The cockpit is a little cramped but there’s some space behind the pilot seat, enough to lay down a sleeping bag. Nathaniel had the inkling that even if there wasn’t, Lisa would sleep standing up. After all, She had been ready to throw herself into the cold brace of the moon and take her gamble on its thin atmosphere.

It was hard to believe she’s human, too.

* * *

“Nathaniel. Hey.”

A light pat lands on their shoulder, shaking them. Nathaniel fights to open their eyes. Their body was so heavy, turned to lead overnight. A fog clung to their head, throwing their focus awry. Still, they recognised him.

“Hal?”

“Yea, it’s me.” He smiles, gentle. “I’ve got you now, okay?”

He circles his arms around their waist, pulling them toward him. Nathaniel leans into his chest, weary.

“Where is she?” They ask, mumbling into his shoulder.

“The other pilot?” Hal pulls away just enough to look at Nathaniel. His face remained kind, gentle. 

“You killed her.”

Nathaniel’s gaze shifts over his shoulder, where the cockpit hatch hangs open and Lachesis was visible. Or, what was left of her. Deimos’ lance had impaled the pilot cockpit completely and blood trickled down the sides. Ice gripped their chest.

“You did a good job, Nathaniel.” Hal continues, pulling them out of the cockpit.

“No wait,” Nathaniel protests, resisting weakly. “Hal, there’s something I need to tell you. Something about—”

Then their voice stops, sunk in a wave of unconsciousness. It drags them deep; deep away from Hal and being rescued and—

Nathaniel wakes. Their body still ached, but the heaviness was gone. As they opened their eyes, their mind shifted into focus. It was a dream, of course. Nathaniel sits up slowly.

Hal.

They let out a slow exhale, pressing their fingers to their temple. Twisted as it was to admit, Nathaniel wishes their dream had been true. If Lisa never survived and they were rescued without ever learning about the cerion, things could go back to normal.

They miss it. They miss him. They miss looking up after a long day to see Hal, smiling like they shared a secret. Like there was no war.

Nathaniel glances at Lisa, who had begun to stir. She sits up slowly.

“Morning.” Nathaniel calls out. Not that there was any distinction between day or night up here.

“Earth habits?” Lisa quips.

“It’s good to keep a routine.” Nathaniel shrugs. They crack open the hatch beside their seat, fishing out packs of water and freeze-dried food. “Here’s breakfast, catch.”

Lisa grabs hold of the supplies as they float across the cockpit to her. She turns them over in her hands.

“Thank you.”

Nathaniel hums nonchalantly. They tear open their packet of food, biting into it. Yesterday, they had been nauseous with anxiety, knotted by fear of what would happen. But all that seemed to ease today. Lisa was easing up, and Nathaniel no longer worried about what she would do.

“How are you planning to fix Deimos?”

Lisa looks up.

“We could salvage parts from Lachesis.”

“...So, fix the broken mecha with parts from the completely broken mecha?”

“You’re simplifying things.” She frowns. “Lachesis’ construction is different. Do you have a toolbox?”

“Yea.” Nathaniel unlocks a side compartment, retrieving it.

* * *

It was eerily quiet outside, with rocky terrain spreading for miles. In the distance, Ares reflects a ghostly glow. Nathaniel trails after Lisa, propelling themself from Deimos to Lachesis. She approaches a panel, opposite to where Deimos’ lance had landed.

“Nathaniel, help me with this.”

Lisa pulls out an electric screwdriver, beginning work on loosening the panel. Nathaniel takes hold of the panel as it begins to detach, steadying it so it doesn’t fling itself at either of them.

“What is that?” Nathaniel asks, peering around the panel.

“It’s Lachesis’ transmitter,” Lisa explains. “I’ll need to rewire it to work with Deimos’ systems, but it should be possible.”

She continues to work on unravelling the transmitter. Nathaniel chips in here and there, but they admit they’re pretty lost when it comes to engineering. About half an hour later, Lisa finally pulls out the pieces she needs.

They backtrack to Deimos and start over again. A rhythm develops as the two work in tandem, with Lisa leading and directing Nathaniel.

Finally, at the end of the day, Lisa reassembles a short-range transmitter on Deimos. She checks with the stellar map, calibrating their position.

“We have a window of two hours each day where the lunar station will be in range to receive our transmission. There’s enough time to send out a few, so if they don’t get picked up we can try again tomorrow.”

With that quick explanation, Lisa flicks the switch to record and send out a transmission.

“This is Lachesis, pilot Lisa Yu. I have crashed on Ares moon six and my unit is no longer functional. Requesting immediate extraction.”

After she sends the message, Lisa turns to Nathaniel.

“You can send out the next one in ten minutes. Just repeat what I said.”

“As in...impersonate you?” Nathaniel quirks an eyebrow at her.

“I don’t suppose they’d be very happy to hear from Deimos, pilot Nathaniel Blair from the Earth Federation, would they?” Lisa returns.

“So you won’t tell them I’m here?”

“It complicates things. I’d explain when they get here.”

“How? You’re not going to make me a war prisoner, are you?” Nathaniel continues, apprehensive.

“No.” Lisa exhales slowly. “I will tell them that you saved me. Fair with you?”

“Yea, appreciate the gratitude.” Nathaniel returns with a smile.

* * *

“This is Lachesis, pilot Lisa Yu. I have fallen on Ares moon six over 48 hours ago. My unit only makes beeping noises and I am considering eating myself. Requesting immediate extraction. And food.”

Nathaniel hits send. Across the cockpit, Lisa gives them a withering look.

“You said they might only receive one out of 60 of these messages, so those 59 can be a bit more interesting, okay?”

The beeper goes off, signaling the end of their ten-minute mark. Nathaniel switches the communications system back into standby mode. As they turn back to Lisa, they notice her picking at the bandage on her head, slowly tearing it off to reveal that the gash from their crash had scabbed over. If anything, that was the only improvement their situation had had the past two days. Wounds, healing. Except—

“Lisa, I’ve been meaning to ask but that part of your face…” Nathaniel pauses, cautious. They had gotten used to it fairly quickly, or rather, hadn’t had any chances to acknowledge it. “Does it hurt?”

Lisa touches the side of her cheek where ash marred the skin.

“This?” She raises her eyebrows.

“Yea.”

Lisa leans against the console, looking out the window displays at the moon’s rocky landscape.

“Ares is different from Earth. It is...harsher. We can survive, but it takes a toll on our bodies.” Lisa’s lips tightened. “There is this gas, present in small amounts in the Ares atmosphere. It is completely absent on earth, but exists on ares. It causes this...deformity. Mostly, it’s non-life threatening, but there have been cases where it affects vital organs. But it’s expected, since we have long known how difficult it is to find optimum conditions for life like earth provides.”

“Is that why you want to return to earth?” Nathaniel asks slowly.

“Yes.” Lisa answers. “Just for our survival, nothing else.”

The beeper goes off again, signaling a new transmission interval. Nathaniel blinks, staring at the console blankly.

“Don’t look so guilty about it.” Lisa sighs, approaching the panel. “You didn’t chase us away.”

“But I was part of—” Nathaniel starts to protest, but quickly falls silent when Lisa starts up a new transmission.

“This is Lachesis, pilot Lisa Yu. I have been stranded on Ares moon six for over 48 hours. My unit is non-functional and I have begun hearing voices of an imaginary co-pilot. Requesting immediate extraction.”

She ends the transmission, hitting send. Nathaniel stares at her.

“Imaginary co-pilot?” Slowly, a smile finds its way onto their lips.

“A hint, of sorts.” Lisa responds.

“Right, so they won’t shoot me on sight.” Nathaniel scoffs.

“They won’t.”

A calm silence passes between them as Nathaniel leans back, peering out the window at the horizon. There’s little to no movement; no clouds or changing colours in the sky. It makes them miss earth.

“I know this might sound weird, but I’m glad I’m not stuck here alone.” They turn back, glancing at Lisa. “You’re quite a decent person when you’re not trying to kill me.”

“I can say the same for you,” Lisa answers, a smirk pulling at her lips. “Although, you’re not very good at trying to kill me.”

“Wait, is this about the lance or the gun?” Nathaniel stares at her, incredulous. “You would’ve  _ died!” _

“I believe that was the point.”

Nathaniel makes a face in between horror and disbelief. Lisa lets out a small chuckle.

“But I appreciate that you didn’t kill me.” She pulls herself up to the front of the cockpit, leaning next to the seat Nathaniel was curled up in. “Your kindness, as well.”

“It wasn’t really kindness.” Nathaniel turns away. “It was just decency. Like, not letting another person bleed to death or die on the moon kind of decency.”

“No, it’s kindness to me.” Lisa presses. “I know going to Ares isn’t your choice — and you may wish to return to the earth federation with the first chance that arises — but will you let me show you? Survival has always been difficult, and we’re always fighting against a larger enemy. Our only advantage is our affinity with technology, to build and understand better than the earth federation. But we are not unkind.”

Nathaniel closes their eyes. Their chest was tight, torn in their beliefs. Could they still return to the earth federation after this? Could they still close their eyes to everything they had learnt?

“I want you to be my ally.” Lisa adds softly.

Finally, Nathaniel turns back to meet her gaze. It was honest, more unguarded than anything she had ever shown. Maybe her armour didn’t make her invincible. Nathaniel takes in a slow breath, then turns and presses their head to her shoulder.

“Hey Lisa, is it possible to leave a message?”

“A message?”

“Yea, a message for someone who thought you were returning.” Nathaniel sighs. “Not that I’d know what I can say on it.”

“You can leave a voice log in. Who is this for?”

“Just some lieutenant of mine.” Nathaniel pulls away, shooting her a quick smile. “Don’t worry about him, Lisa.”

* * *

“What do you mean Nathaniel is still missing in action?”

A slam echoes through the room. Quick, seething breaths.

“And you aren’t sending out a search party yet?”

“Lieutenant Crowe.” The captain lowers his voice to a firm, commanding tone. “We have received significant damage from the battle and are in the midst of regrouping our available forces—”

“It’s been 48 hours! They could be dead!” Hal continues, high with distress.

“We have considered that.” The captain continues. “Officer Blair’s last recorded trajectory shows them heading into Ares airspace. It’s a dangerous territory to navigate and our resources are insufficient, so we have temporarily suspended pursuit.”

“That’s bullshit.” Hal growls. “If you need pilots, then I—”

“You will retract your reassignment request and return to your piloting duties?”

Hal steps back. No, this wasn’t supposed to be how it plays out. He grits his teeth.

“Only for this mission. Afterward I will only fulfil support or surveillance roles. Nothing in combat.”

“Hmm,” the captain hums. “And we were thinking of assigning you to our new third-generation combat unit, after your recuperation.”

“...What? But I said—” Hal pales as the captain brings up the unit on the screen.

Ezekiel: a third-generation combat unit, modelled after his predecessor, Deimos. Ezekiel was armed with a similar set of equipment, with a mid-range rifle and a lance for striking and piercing. Equipment Hal was intimately familiar with.

“You’re making me pilot this? I won't—!”

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hits him, staggering him to his knees. Hal gasps, doubling over as his nerves burned.

“Sorry we’re resorting to this.”

Hal turns to the new voice, recognising it as his doctor. She brandishes a device in her hand.

“We needed to make sure you weren’t going to...flake out on us. After all, you’re very special to us, Lieutenant Halden Crowe.”

“What...the hell…”

“Oh, it’s nothing much, just a little remote to fire certain nerve signals in your body,” she continues. “We put you under a couple of times and reconstructed your arm, so it’s just a little token from us.”

The captain turns back to him.

“So, will you accept your new assignment?” 

* * *

_**SIX MONTHS LATER** _

“I’m just suggesting that if we’re not doing anything, I could test out Deimos’ long-range rifle.”

Nathaniel taps their fingers against the control stick. They don’t even need to  _ drive _ this. It’s completely on autopilot with a pre-entered flight path.

“We  _ are _ doing something. We’re patrolling.” Lisa’s voice breaks through the radio. “Anyway, didn’t you try out the rifle the other day?”

“In a controlled setting with the power at low?” Nathaniel scoffs. “That barely means anything. Look, we’ve got intel that the earth federation is regrouping so something might be stirring.”

“More reason to pay attention to our patrols.”

She has a point. Nathaniel sighs, defeated. Since their arrival in Ares months ago, they had slowly grown accustomed to the cerion. Eventually, they got involved with some weapons development and then piloting, again. They blamed it on Lisa.

Things have been tense between the earth federation and the cerion. Both sides have been defensive, so any thought Nathaniel had of possibly communicating with them had been too dangerous to pursue. They still didn’t want to fight earth, but if push came to pull, it was likely they’d be pulled into the conflict. They would still pull the trigger, if only to protect their partner.

“There’s something at 8 o’clock. Nathaniel, you’re closer to it, run a scan.”

Nathaniel turns back to their console, initiating a scan of the unit. From this distance, it seemed to be bigger than a regular support unit. Was it a combat unit? If so, they might be in trouble.

_ Ezekiel  _ — a name identifier comes up, but nothing else.

Shit, is it a new unit from the earth federation? If it isn’t in their database, that was the only explanation.

“Lisa, I think it’s from the federation. What do we do?” Nathaniel asks, apprehensive.

“I’ll signal them.”

After a beat, Lisa sends out a long-range signal on an open channel.

“Attention, you are in Cerion airspace. Turn back now or identify yourself and your purpose.”

They wait and eventually a message returns, although badly distorted by static.

_ “...pilot of Ezekiel...not attack....Ares moon six.” _

“What should we do?” Nathaniel asks, switching back to their private channel.

“Let’s see what they want. But stay on your guard.”

* * *

Since their crash, Ares moon six hasn’t changed much. It’s always been rocky terrain for miles, devoid of any particular lifeform. The crater from their unceremonious landing was still there, though most of the mecha parts had been salvaged to reconstruct their new units. Still, it stirs a small sense of nostalgia in Nathaniel, vividly reminding them of how they had met and spent several days with Lisa. It was the tipping point; the place their stars had been torn out of alignment and rearranged.

To this day, they’re still figuring that out.

“Let’s go see what this is about,” Nathaniel mutters, setting Deimos to standby mode. 

“I hope I won’t have to use you. Though if they try to hurt Lisa, I’d have to.”

They wait, taking in a few slow breaths to calm down. Then they grab their handgun, slipping it into their suit’s holster before releasing the hatch.

Nathaniel joins Lisa outside, where she had stopped a few feet in front of Lachesis. Ezekiel’s pilot exits their cockpit as well.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Lisa asks, removing her helmet so her voice projects across the field instead of echoing in their radio. “Did the earth federation send you here?”

Nathaniel removes their helmet as well.

“Answer her questions.”

The pilot pauses, seeming to stare at them — it was hard to tell; their helmet was completely tinted black.

“Na...aniel?”

It was hard to make out their words at their distance, muffled by their helmet, but Nathaniel swore they said…

The enemy pilot starts toward them with slow but steady strides. As they do, they reach up for their helmet.

“Hal—!”

The name tears out of them like muscle memory, coarse sand dragged through their throat. All at once their chest squeezes and their heart swells. Nathaniel steps towards him.

But Hal’s eyes tighten. Lines and shadows under his eyes they haven’t seen before.

Then as Nathaniel takes another step, Hal pulls out a gun, aiming the muzzle at them. They freeze.

“Hal, what are you—”

“Don’t you dare!” Lisa pulls out her own gun, aiming it back at Hal.

“Nathaniel, I thought you died.” Hal speaks, trying to keep his voice level. “But you deserted the federation? All this time, I searched for you when you just...left.”

“Hal, I tried to leave you a message! I tried to go back so I could tell you the truth in person — I wanted you on our side,” Nathaniel explains, desperate. “The cerion aren’t who we thought they were, they were  _ victims _ , and both of us were…”

“Being used?” Hal’s grip loosens. Something in his eyes crumble. “I know that now.”

Nathaniel stares at him. Something was wrong. Something beyond the creases that aged his eyes, beyond the shadows that pulled at his skin.

“They’ve planted something in me, Nathaniel. If I don’t fight for them, they’d use it.”

He raises the gun again, tightening his grip.

“Both of you should go.”

It was their fault. They left thinking that all they were leaving behind were their casual exchanges — comfort bred in a bubble. They left thinking things would stay the same, that Hal would never be swept up in the conflict, even though he  _ had. _

Nathaniel exchanges a glance with Lisa. Nothing to do but to try and patch up a wound, even if it ran deep.

“We’ll reach a truce, someday,” Nathaniel says as they back away. “We’ll break this stupid stalemate and save you.”

A small, hopeful smile crosses his face.

“Please do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading DEUCE! I hope you've enjoyed this wild spinoff. Now I'd finally be resuming work on the actual story, Sixth sense....haha...
> 
> Feel free to follow me on [instagram](http://instagram.com/fever_fiction) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/fever_fiction) if you'd like to catch more of my original work!


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